


Beurette

by Al_D_Baran



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consensual Racism, Dirty Talk, F/M, Face-Fucking, Historical Reenactment, Historical Roleplay, Humiliation, Modern Setting, Race, Raceplay, Racism, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:03:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Al_D_Baran/pseuds/Al_D_Baran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sabine asks Arthur to do some rather... racy things to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beurette

**Author's Note:**

> Tamgoakura and WhiteWings dare me to write some raceplay. I tried and dirtied my soul.  
> Disclaimer: I'm white and I don't consider myself to be racist. That was actually hard to write because I'm really shitty at being an asshole.  
> Please don't doxx me too hard.

Flying from London to Victoria had almost became a weekly occurrence. Ever since he had started his relationship with Sabine, the nation had decided to commute between both countries on his own accord, with surprisingly little complaint. He loved her; loved to spend time with her. The French way she spoke was, of course, a little annoying, but Arthur could manage without problems.

Sabine lived in a small house on the side of the sea, between a sea-side cliff on one side and a white-sand beach on the other. They had agreed to meet there, as they wanted to have something a little different this time. They had lengthily spoke about it through text message when he was on the plane, hence, Arthur knew exactly what he was doing.

Before he packed his things, the younger nation had called him to ask him to bring a sailor costume—something old he would have worn long ago. Head filled with question but letting his lover keep a mystery over her surprise until he was indeed flying to her, he agreed without too much hesitation. Now that she had told him why, well…

Arthur felt a little nervous as he stopped the cab near Sabine’s home, hopping outside with his trunk. Hiding under the cover of a few trees, glad that her home was in a secluded and rather private area, Arthur had changed for a replica of his glorious pirate days, the long, deep red coat falling to his calves. The open shirt offered a lovely view of the new tattoos he had over his chest, even if back then, they were much different—they had eventually all faded with time, leaving sometimes a faint outline.

He was febrile, hands trembling with excitement as he thought of what they were going to do. Sabine wanted him to be _racist_ with her. To… act like a colonizer and take her. Now, it sounded like something _he_ would have been more likely to come up with, not for being kinkier—he, well, wasn’t—but because this would have sounded a little less astonishing coming from the brain of a white man. He had agreed. What could he do?

Arthur had to wrap his head around the ancient way of thinking. It felt so far away… it was much harder for him to feel racism for a country too. Plus, he had grown up in a time where racism didn’t exist as it was now—discrimination existed, but the global enslavement of blacks hadn’t been a thing until quite late in his life. Sure, discrimination had always been there, all over the world, but racism was a recent thing.

The hot sun was making the coat an oven. Arthur couldn’t wait to get it off. Dragging his heavy boots across the sand, the Brit thought he probably was the cleanest pirate to cross it for the last centuries. Sabine awaited him under the white gallery of the house, dressed in a simple, blue and pink dress. It looked less traditional then French, he noticed with a tiny scoff. Were they starting with English colonization rather than a virgin land?

Arthur had no time to be actually offended by such a petty aspect of what was happening, still. When he reached where she stood, Sabine bowed her head to him, like a lovely maid. She reached up on her toes, her tiny hands taking off his heavy coat and tricorn to take them away and hang them on a small hook. She had removed most electronics from view, covered those that couldn’t be hid with blankets.

Sabine looked terribly lovely up close and in that dress, he had to admit. It outlined her body and she had put her long hair in those rope-like braids he loved. Arthur almost wanted to reach to touch her. Was she wearing a bra under this? The Brit held back, seeing the hard nubs pushing against the heavy fabric. He felt himself get hotter.

Sabine’s plump lips were just so… _kissable_. She had a lovely pout, trying to hide her mischief behind a well-behaved smile. “Bienvenue, maître,” she said. Arthur was about to scold her for the French when he understood. Master? Were they… playing some kind of slavery thing? He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Obviously, he had owned a comfortable number of slave in the past, but Sabine have _never_ been a slave.

Scooting past her flabbergasted _master_ , Sabine giggled. Arthur would have pulled her back if he had had any ideas how to actually react to their little play. Sabine beat him long before, announcing with a playful smile, “I am going to get clams for diner, _maître_. Please, make yourself at ease. It must have been a long trip.”

She fled along the white sand, naked feet digging into it. Thinking she obviously didn’t want him to sit down a grab a beer, Arthur followed sneakily tracing where she had went. The dress had been abandoned on the beach. The Brit looked for panties to follow, guessing Sabine was leaving him a trail. When he found none, he looked up to the ocean, seeing Sabine’s dark form under the sun’s strong light.

Naked, she was idly reaching for the water, obviously not finding any clams in there—Arthur doubted there was any this time of the year. What Sabine lacked in breasts, she compensated with a wonderful ass. She never had the hourglass shape of many black women, but nonetheless… It was plump and plush, full and firm. Somehow, it never ceased to amaze Arthur. As much as it could sound like an old pervert would only do the same, it was hard to stop toying with it.

There was a twitching in his pants. Sabine knew just exactly how to put her body to arouse him. Trying to put himself in the mind of a slave owner, the nation stepped closer, his lover looking back to him with an innocent smile. “Oh, _maître_ ,” she said. “I’m sorry… I did not want to wet the dress you bought for me.” She leaned forward even more, legs spread to keep her balance, revealed the dark folds of her inner thigh. Arthur wondered if she was wet already or if she had dipped herself; her skin was almost glistening.

He understood what she was doing in a flash. She was _tantalizing_ him, trying to pull him out of his shyness with her lewdness… oh, and it was working.

Marching closer, Arthur pulled her up, one hand fisting into the thick braids. She squeaked, looking up to him with first surprise, then excitation. Arthur felt like a deer caught in headlights for a couple seconds before he regained his confidence, throwing the girl to the water. Sabine looked up to him, mouth agape in surprise, trying to make herself smaller.

“Don’t you think I can see what you little _negro_ whore is doing?” he bellowed, stomping. The word felt vile, but she had asked him to…

Sabine looked up to him, heaving scampering at his feet like a truly scared slave. “Oh, I am so sorry, _maître_! I only wanted to…” She fidgeted, squeezing her thighs like truly only an actress could. Arthur could see the arousal in her eyes, on the way she bit her lower lip, wriggling in the water as if its coolness helped her aching quim. “I wanted to please you…”

Arthur scoffed, “Of course. Isn’t that all you think about? Your idiotic kind only thinks of sex and food. Like animals, truly.”

Sabine looked down in faked humiliation, kneeling in front of him, as if repentant. She looked up, carefully locking her gaze with his, voice soft and hoarse as she spoke, “ _Oui, maître_. I only think of sex… of my _maître_ ’s cock… It’s so…” She smiled, biting her lips, as if she was trying to stifle a laugh. “It’s so big, _maître_ … it would fill me up so well…”

Arthur glared at the laugh. What? He was a good average size. Not every white man could have such an acceptable size as Francis and his brother. Honestly, was Sabine trying shame _him_ too? She was lucky he didn’t pick it up. He’d tell her about how her _lover_ was average-sized later, preferring to carry on with the game.

“Isn’t that right? Negro whores like your kind really are too hot-blooded,” Arthur spat, feeling Sabine’s wet hands massage his half-hard cock through his pants. Her hands had experience, but he carried on, opening her legs with a foot, nudging the tip of his boot against her cunt, hard. “Just look at you moaning. You’d open your legs for just about anyone, like the chimp you are.”

“Oh, _maître_ , I would… but I want you, I want your cock inside my pussy…”

“Right.” Arthur pulled her hands away, unlacing his pants to free his still aching erection. “Not yet. Maybe. You’ll have to be a worthy slut.” He pulled her closer, one hand burying itself in the heavy mass of her hair, rubbing the tip of his cock against her thick lips. When she tried to pull it inside her mouth, the Brit pulled her off, slapping her soundly. “Don’t you monkeys have any patience?”

Sabine almost cried at the strength of the blow—for a second, Arthur feared she’d call for a break, use her safeword or call for an entire halt. A slap didn’t seem to stop her, however, as she looked up, doing her best to appear as submissive as possible. Trusting inside her warm mouth, Arthur closed his eyes. “Suck,” he ordered, soon feeling her head bop along his length. He felt sparks behind his eyelids each time the head entered and left her throat as it shivered around it.

Arthur wasted no time to take control of the rhythm. Grounding his feet into the muddy sand, gripping her hair and steadying himself, he trusted inside her mouth, delighting himself in the soft moans, hiccups and wet chocking noises that he was able to pull from her. If Sabine’s worked expression was any indication, Arthur could tell that she was enjoying to be used like this…

Pulling away after a few minutes to only stroke himself, Arthur looked at Sabine’s expectant expression, the shook his head. “Stupid negro. Open your mouth and get closer. Aren’t you hungry? You’ll be happy with some cum inside your stomach.” It took only the shame and the proximity of her lips to make him spill, seeds spraying inside the girl’s mouth, chin and chest. Arthur roughly wiped her lower lip clean, smirking as he dressed himself again. “You’re good. Maybe I’ll give you more food if you keep on being that way. You negros need to deserve what you’re given.”

“ _Oui, maître_ ,” Sabine breathed out, voice hoarse, a stupidly happy smile on her lips. Arthur chuckled, ruffling her hair almost paternally.

“Let’s get inside,” he added, pulling her along gently toward the house. “I’m sure some clams are waiting for us, somewhere.”

“ _Oui, maître_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are nice, comments are great.  
> Again, please don't doxx me too hard.  
> Might get another part but that was enough racism for today.


End file.
